


No Artificial Flavors

by orphan_account



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: A Disgusting Amount of Flirting, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe-Smoothie Barista/Dancer, Bad Flirting, Dance References, M/M, Mentions of Anzu, Mildly Raunchy Humor??, Some Humor, if that's a thing--, lots of flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:35:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It was love at first order of a Berrylicious Blend with a shot of açaí for the antioxidant and zinc boost.And stuff like this only spelled trouble for Kaoru, 'Cause like, how much açaí is too much açaí, you know? The stuff is pretty strong.





	1. Like Empty Cups or Something

**Author's Note:**

> this is what im writing between binge-watching RPDR and Bad Girls Club reruns.
> 
> kaochiakuro refer to each other by their given names since i made them kinda closer in this au so yea
> 
> this is a mess tbh
> 
> also shout out to my local jamba juice

His lungs burn, his feet ache, and his hands can't stop shaking no matter what he tries. A heavy flood of anxiety, and outright, unadulterated fear hinder his ability to process thought. His hot face contrasts the blatant chill down his neck and back as he runs, sprints up the steps to his apartment. The blaring in his ears, the pounding in his heart, the tremble in places he can't quite name, all contribute to the light feeling in his head, the tightness in his throat. He genuinely believes the moment he lets go of all the tension in his body, it will become wracked with sobs and he will lose any capacity to move. 

 

The fact he was able to even drive home in such a state is incredible. 

 

He’s watching himself, and it’s such a pathetic scene, the way he fumbles with his keys and barely manages to open his door. He stumbles inside hastily, and immediately finds calm in the familiar scent of his living room. His comfort, his security, it all comes back in some orderly fashion.

 

It’s late, it’s quiet, it’s dark, and he’s too exhausted to do anything other than sit at the bottom of his door and catch his breath.

 

Kaoru probably gets a minute—two minutes, tops, to settle down before he hears the flick of a light switch, and is met with a face that holds a peculiar mixture of concern and condemnation.

 

He doesn't know why he finds it odd, it’s something he’s been accustomed to for over a year now. 

 

“It’s two in the morning.”

 

The silence that follows expects a response, a good one, but Kaoru smiles instead.

 

“‘Sup Kuro.”

 

“It’s two in the morning,” he repeats, steps out from the hallway to get a better look at him.

 

He laughs this time, as his nerves relax. Kuro leans against the wall and folds his arms. With his hair tousled, and his robe loosely tied at his waist, Kaoru can tell he’s been woken up, and feels a twinge of guilt for being the cause.

 

However, his roommate here had a tendency to be unsympathetic to many of his endeavors and glaring displays of disarray, so such a feeling never lasted long. 

 

He outs with it, seeing as he wouldn't be left alone unless he does.

 

“She had a boyfriend.”

 

The well-predicted sigh of disappointment, goes hand-in-hand with the oncoming rebuke.

 

“Of course she did.”

 

Kaoru gets to his feet and shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants as he shuffles his way into their kitchen, opens the fridge and pulls out a pint of ice cream. Kuro follows him.

 

“That’s Chiaki’s.”

 

“Tell him the only people who actually enjoy rainbow sherbet are the elderly and children with an 8pm bedtime.”

 

“What happened?”

 

He grabs a spoon.

 

“We were on her bed, we were going at it, then, we heard the door unlocking.” He lists, pulls the lid off the carton, “I asked her, ‘What was that?’ She said, ‘Get in the closet.’”

 

Kaoru takes a bite of the ice cream, distaste evident on his face, he continues, mouth full.

 

“I just act like I didn't hear her right, and ask again,” he swallows, “next thing I know I'm being choked out by a saffron scarf and twisting my ankles on some open-toed pumps.”

 

“Christ-”

 

“She throws my shirt at me and locks me inside, and that’s when it hits me, y’know,? Like, I’m kind of fucked.”

 

He takes another bite.

 

“So I’m freaking out, ‘cause all I can hear is someone coming up the stairs, then her bedroom door opens.”

 

Kaoru nibbles his spoon in thought, stares distantly.

 

“They start shouting at each other—it’s immediate too, no buildup, just screaming like she’s already been caught in the act. It goes exactly like those cliché TV dramas—you know, the ones with the, ‘Oh my God, I can't believe you!’ And, ‘No, no! It’s not what you think!’ And I'm trying not to breathe too hard, since, I know this isn't going to end well with where I'm sitting. It was kind of surreal.” He shakes his head before his expression is overcome with annoyance.

 

“They calm down after a while, though. Can't tell you how long they argued, or what she did, but they stopped.”

 

“That’s good-”

 

“No. No, it’s not good,” he hits his spoon against the edge of the carton, “it’s not good, ‘cause they start making up. Heatedly.” He scoffs, “like there isn't a half-naked guy in the closet.”

 

“What’d you do?”

 

“I stepped out, she introduced me, and we all discussed the possibility of an open relationship—I fucking ran, Kuro.” He fills his mouth, “grabbed my shirt, kicked open the closet, took one look at her soon-to-be ex, and booked it.”

Kuro only rubs his eyes, too tired to properly register his words.

 

Kaoru licks his spoon and sets it down.

 

“I’m okay, by the way, in case you were concerned.”

 

“I’m sure anyone would think that a guy who comes home to eat ice cream after ruining a relationship is totally fine.”

 

“Wow, alright, pause.” Kaoru holds up a hand, “ _I_ didn't ruin anything. I was a victim, she played both of us.”

 

“Right.” Kuro finds himself a spoon of his own, and the way he does that, with his own nonchalance, irks Kaoru more than he’d like to admit.

 

“I don't go after taken people? I’d never do that—what kind of person do you think I am?” 

 

The other only taps the spoon to his chin, as if the gesture is an answer in itself.

 

“‘Kay, hurtful-”

 

“I’m messing with you.” Kuro helps himself to the ice cream, “you seriously need to be more careful, though.”

 

“Like I’m not already taking every precaution possible to keep myself out of trouble.”

 

“Are you really?”

 

“It finds me Kuro!” He whines with a melodramatic exhale, one his friend would jeer at if it weren't for the frozen dessert being the height of his interest at the moment. “I’m like a magnet for this shit—I might be cursed.”

 

“You’re just a human disaster.”

 

“Not very good at the whole ‘comforting a friend’ thing, huh?”

 

“Honestly, I don't think I've ever seen anyone with as bad as luck as you.” He starts, pauses to let the taste of the ice cream mingle. “It’s like you’re being followed by some floating vortex, determined to suck up the positive energy of any room you walk in, and leave you in every crappy situation possible.”

 

He points his spoon at him. “In a fucked up way, it’s kind of funny. Like slapstick comedy setups.”

 

“I’m glad my misery is entertaining to some.”

 

“You should write a book.”

 

Kaoru leans against the counter and holds his arms out, as if to read an array of words that seem to have materialized out of thin air.

 

“ _How to get Royally Fucked by the Universe, 101 Ways and Counting, all Before the First Date._ An autobiography.”

 

“Atta boy,” Kuro swats his arm with a mock of a proud smirk, “This’ll write itself. I smell a best seller.”

 

Kaoru shrugs him off. “What am I doing wrong?”

 

“My guess: it’s the hair.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You serious?”

 

“Dead.”

 

Kaoru runs a hand through it, squints.

 

“Really?”

 

“You should cut it.”

 

“No way… I mean, I could, but… _really?_ ”

 

Kuro changes his mind. “It’s divine intervention, some greater force stepped in. Who has time to fool around on a weekday, anyway? Don't you have work in a few hours?”

 

“It’s not like I’ll get fired.”

 

“You are literally on thin ice everyday.”

 

“Do we work at the same place? The manager loves me.”

 

Kuro makes a strangled noise; Kaoru still manages to find the laugh in it.

 

“Does it take effort for you to be this self absorbed, or is it just something that comes naturally? Are you aware, or-”

 

“You don't think Anzu likes me?”

 

“I think she tries very hard to put up with you.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“She’s too nice, s’all I’m saying.”

 

Kaoru snatches the carton of ice cream before Kuro can help himself to another bite.

 

“She likes me.”

 

“Did I hit a nerve?”

 

He puts it aside, gives him a direct look.

 

“Did she tell you this?”

 

“I’m going back to bed.”

 

“Kuro, I’m serious. Was she talking about me?”

 

He doesn't respond, much to his irritation, only yawns and waves off any attempt to get an answer out of him. Kaoru frowns, tosses his spoon into the sink as he momentarily broods over his lingering question. He’ll dismiss it for now, as he does have to prepare himself for work in a few.

 

And while he spends the next half hour showering and envisioning himself bald until he falls asleep, Kaoru does what he finds himself doing almost every night: hoping his day will prove to be better than the one before it.


	2. A Citrus Kind of Blend—For the Energy

It’s this incessant, nagging urge to be twice as self-conscious than he usually is, pinned to the back of his head that forces the model worker out of him today. It’s why he’s more attentive and diligent. At least, he believes he’s more attentive and diligent. Right now, his tendency to just follow the lead of his own pride and persistence is at an all time high. For once, he’ll act like he enjoys the time he spends here, just so the fruits of his own labor can spit in the face of whatever Kuro implied before he went off to bed because Anzu likes him, she totally does.

 

He’s running on minimal sleep and there’s this acute wave of euphoria blocking the punch of exhaustion that’s practically waiting for him, and he doesn't know when it’ll hit, but he’ll ride out this near-invincible feeling until it does.

 

The place is busier than normal, which makes it even more difficult to keep up this facade of loving that he’s forever engulfed by the smell of kale among the variety of fruits present, the sound of blenders whirring nonstop, and the very fact he’s forced to serve pretentious health nuts, as well as self-proclaimed individualists living in the outskirts of the contemporary art scene who've deemed the local coffee spot a few blocks down just ‘not the place to be anymore’, without slipping up here and there.

 

He wouldn't go as far as to say he hates it here.

 

But when he gets into thinking about how he’s ended up in a full-time, dead end job at some popular smoothie joint, which had inadvertently sealed his fate to this unfortunately ungratifying life, any shred of optimism is immediately consumed by the vast amount of nihilism festering within the confines of his mind, and he can't help but to really fucking hate it here.

 

He swears he isn't a cynical person; he finds world-weary people too emotionally draining to be around.

 

He feels stuck, though, aimless.

 

And that feeling alone makes any determination to do an above par job just melt away, even with Kuro’s watchful gaze.

 

It’s like a cycle, and with it, he can't help but to slack a little.

 

For a moment, the idea of getting fired doesn't seem all that detrimental, neither does quitting. It’s something he seriously considers,

 

Until he walks in.

 

As a disruption of thought, he’ll tell himself that for now.

 

It’s most likely the unitard, something so form-fitting and not considered everyday wear would obviously turn heads, or maybe it’s the disruptive squeak of his sneakers. Whatever it is, it’s got Kaoru glued. 

 

He instantly thinks actor—model, this guy has the professional presence, and from a distance—the looks. It wouldn't be surprising.

 

Kaoru had always wondered if he had the ability to do that, if anything about him was attention-grabbing, or prompted immediate attraction without saying a word.

 

His hair is tied back in a loose tail with strands that fall at the sides of his face. A worn, gray sweater hangs on his arms just as loosely, reveals shoulders, toned and bare. He’s tall and lean and walks with this perfect-posture stance that Kaoru can't even interpret as pompous because of the hinted exhaustion in his face, and the faint accent of sweat on his forehead.

 

Kaoru just—eyes the counter, stares at it, because despite the waning interest at his entrance from the rest of the occupants in the parlor, who've gone back to their drinks, he still feels like he hasn't looked his fill, and that in itself is more annoying than it is embarrassing. 

 

For a hot minute he forgets how to function. His mind so momentarily enthralled by this one person there’s a disconnect between his control and motor skills so great he ends up standing there dumbly, trying and failing to not make it so obvious he’s reading the contours of this stranger’s hips through the tightness of this ridiculously snug suit and—

 

He’s at the counter.

 

Kaoru tenses, but with the way the other still seems invested in the menu board overhead, whatever shame he feels dissipates, and he collects himself.

 

He’s just as pretty up close.

 

Kaoru barely catches his order through the sudden overwhelming mix of captivation and intimidation—which he hides behind a smile. It’s some sort of fruit and vegetable blend he already finds himself preparing before he can actually recall what goes in it.

 

“First time here?” He asks.

 

“Is it obvious?” There’s something mild about the sound of his voice, both steady and tranquil. It’s enough to make him fumble a bit with the blender before he plays that off with yet another smile.

 

“More of a hunch.”

 

Kuro’s snort is both slight and piercing, but he ignores that to admire the small grin he was able to produce.

 

“I walked in on a whim, you know?” He says, “thought I’d treat myself.”

 

“That’s great,” Kaoru stops to grab a medium cup, “since I’m pretty good at treating people.”

 

“Lucky me.”

 

If there is anything he is more sure of right now it’s that this guy is checking him out just as much as he is, and it fuels with more confidence than he should ever really have.

 

They say nothing more, the transaction goes smoothly, and Kaoru’s certain this is the most meticulously prepared drink he’s crafted in a while. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, he won't dwell on right now, because when he watches the union of carrot, mango, and orange become a single sip to pink, thin lips, he’s complacent enough to not care about anything else.

 

To be gifted with a satisfied smile, it’s almost energizing.

 

He pays, he leaves, and there’s this settling feeling that this won't be the last time Kaoru will see him.

 

Kaoru’s ‘Thank you, and come again’ is soft, nearly lost as the other makes his way out the door. 

 

He doesn't mind that, though, he’s too busy fighting back a smirk, like now’s the time to be modest.

 

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Kuro comments, wiping down the counter beside him.

 

“I’m always in a good mood.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Does it matter? ‘Service with a smile’ was in the job description, I'm pretty sure.”

 

“It looked like you wanted to do more than just smile at him, though.”

 

Kaoru scoffs into a chuckle, doesn't look at him.

 

“Wow, that’s quite a speculation, you sure you aren't projecting?”

 

“Only calling things as I see it.”

 

“Invest in sunglasses.”

 

“So I was right?”

 

“Get back to work.”

 

And he does, right before he gives him a knowing look of his own, Kuro moves to clean up an empty table.

 

Kaoru decides to ignore him for the rest of his shift and let him assume what he wants. He’s got a new surge of vigor that’ll last him until he has to clock out.

 

And with a manager to impress, he’s glad for that.


	3. Pulp is an Illusion of Health, to be Honest

“So now, if you press: forward, down, back, forward-punch, you activate a buff! Which disables your opponent’s ability to block and gives you a 20% damage boost.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You could also press: front-punch _and_ back-punch, back, and block, it’s a super easy combo that enhances your critical hits by 9%!”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Personally, I tend to use: front-punch, front-punch, front-punch, _back-punch,_ down, back-kick. It gives you 12% enhancement and leaves your opponent stunned—plus, it’s super flashy.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Uh, Kuro, are you gonna try any of ‘em? You just keep squatting and kicking each time I try to get close… these are moves used in tournaments, y’know?”

 

Kaoru gives an inaudible sigh at the chatter as he watches the two of them tap away on game controllers in the middle of their living room floor; the sound effects of grunts, attacks, and power-ups becomes an incessant buzzing in his ears. He sprawls out on the couch, plays with the front of his hair. This isn't how he’d like to spend his day off, but with how neither of them seem to have plans to leave the apartment today, there isn't much he can do.

 

“Yeah, I didn't get a word of that.”

 

A sigh.

 

“I _said_ forward-”

 

“Dumb it down, my guy.”

 

“Oh, uh… Kuro smash button. Kuro hit hard. Kuro win big?”

 

“See, that I can do. Now come here so I can whoop you at your own game.”

 

“Gonna have to do more than kick if you really wanna beat me, though.”

 

“I know what I’m about.”

 

Kaoru groans, rolls onto his side. “You guys have been sitting in front of the T.V for hours, aren’t you tired? Don't you wanna, maybe, go outside?”

 

He gets nothing. Completely aware he’s being ignored, Kaoru still speaks as if they simply didn’t hear him.

 

“I, for one, am sick of this sausage fest. I overheard this group of girls talking about a new yogurt place that opened up a week ago, let’s check it out.”

 

No response.

 

Kaoru tosses a couch pillow at the back of Chiaki’s head, to which he grabs and rests behind him, so that he can lie down comfortably.

 

“Kaoru—grab a controller and join us.”

 

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

 

“Is it really not enough for you to stay home and relax? Kuro’s making spaghetti later.”

 

“Uh, yeah? I don't want spaghetti, I want to go outside, I want to breathe, I want _stimulation_ —of various kinds.”

 

“There it is.” Kuro pauses their game, much to Chiaki’s protest, “you just need us to tag along wherever you want to go until you can ditch us for some skirts to chase.”

 

“Not true. I also could really go for some yogurt.”

 

“Go by yourself.”

 

“I can't just go get yogurt by myself, what do I look like?”

 

“Someone very capable of doing just that.”

 

“So boring…” he drones, “how did I manage to end up with two squares as my roommates?”

 

“Good question,” Kuro unpauses, “maybe you should move out.”

 

“Maybe I should.”

 

“Take Chiaki with you.”

 

“ _Wow._ ”

 

Kaoru snorts as Chiaki looks from him to Kuro with an expression of offense and hurt.

 

“You don't mean that.” He decides, nudges him with his foot.

 

He doesn't. They know he doesn't, but they also know that Kuro is probably capable of living on his own if he wanted. Only rarely are they ever reminded of this fact. Aside from the smoothie parlor, he also works a lot of odd, handyman jobs. They’re sporadic and never consistent, has Kaoru and Chiaki very convinced this guy can do anything. How he manages his time, Kaoru doesn't care enough to know, but with the way he gets paid under the table, and has developed a habit of stuffing money in his mattress, Kaoru has become concerned enough to at least suggest how to better save it from time to time.

 

And of course, that often goes ignored.

 

It’s not a big deal, if he can boldly claim Kaoru’s portion of the rent isn't really a necessity, then maybe he’s doing something right.

 

“You know,” Chiaki starts, eyes glued to the screen, “I think we have a good dynamic going on here, it wouldn't be smart to let us go.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“It’s like,” he sits up again, “the way we live, it’s a good relationship. Kuro cooks, I clean, Kaoru… is here.”

 

Kuro only lets out some amused hum as Kaoru shoots up.

 

“What the fuck? I contribute to this household just as much as you guys.”

 

“How so?”

 

Kaoru looks about the living room as if something will come to him in an answer, only to scoff and dismiss the question altogether as he lies back down.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Still,” he continues, “I’m just saying; it’d really suck to be someone who hates their roommates. So I hope I can speak for everyone when I say we lucked out when we found each other.”

 

“Is it just your hobby to regurgitate shitty lines from after school specials? Like is this fun for you-”

 

“I’m serious! We can't take this comfort for granted.” Chiaki pauses the game this time, “Man, I think I can even say that I love you guys!”

 

Two unanimous groans.

 

“What’s up with the sudden tenderness?”

 

“Chiaki you get up to hug me and I’ll kick you.”

 

“I mean it.” He thumps his chest, “I think that at times, even when I probably shouldn't. Like when Kuro hogs the bathroom, or when Kaoru eats my food, or when Kaoru also drinks my sodas, or when he uses up all the hot water, and borrows my laptop without asking, and leaves his shoes in my room, and asks for money but never pays it back, and sleeps in my bed when he’s sick, and-”

 

“Chiaki.”

 

“What I’m trying to say is that it’s cool, okay? We’re like a family, and I like that.”

 

“I’m nauseous.”

 

Kuro scratches his head.

 

“I mean, I guess.”

 

“I love having you as my roommate, Kuro.” Chiaki states with this peculiar sense of pride.

 

Kuro only matches it, nods.

 

“Then, I love having you as my roommate too.”

 

Kaoru sighs and takes that as his cue to leave.

 

“I guess I’ll just get going before you two start making out.” He gets up off the couch, smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt.

 

“I’ll head over to that yogurt place myself then, like some friendless loser.” 

 

“Self-acceptance to the person you really are is the first step to anything.”

 

“I honestly feel like you and me are gonna fight one day, Kuro, and when the time comes and you ask yourself ‘what happened?’ I want you to remember that you told me this when I was at a low point in my life.”

 

He laughs as Chiaki restarts their game, and Kaoru moves to fetch his sweater.

 

“Anyways, give me Anzu’s number.”

 

“Why would I do that to her?”

 

“Shut it. I wanna clear things up since she supposedly hates me—I’ll ask her to join me so I won't be alone, and do some sweet-talking.”

 

“You don't have to feed her sorbet and kiss her ass, just keep doing what you were doing the other day.” He tells him, glancing from his controller and back to the screen, “you’re a shit worker who should’ve been booted months ago—clean up your act and maybe she’ll praise you more often.”

 

“She’s been praising me?”

 

“When you’re not acting like you don’t know what you’re doing, sometimes, yeah.”

 

“What the hell—why do you know this? Why does she talk about me to you?” Kaoru nearly scowls before a childish pout makes itself more known, “I don’t like this secret friendship between you two,” he declares, “especially since it’s founded on trashing me behind my back.”

 

“We don’t have a secret friendship.”

 

“Tell me her number.”

 

“What makes you think I even have it? She never gave me anything besides her work email, which you should have too.”

 

“See, no, that’s bullshit, because I specifically remember you calling in sick and talking to her directly.”

 

“Kaoru, that was a month ago-”

 

“Any other special benefits from being besties with Anzu I should know about? Is Chiaki in on this too?”

 

“I don't know an Azuza-”

 

Kuro sighs and sets his controller down to look at him, Chiaki still fighting away.

 

“Listen, if you want her number, she's the one to ask, not me. But you know what you'd have to do to get it. If you really want someone to go with you that bad, why don't you hit up the leotard guy that's been stopping by the joint every other day, or have you two not made it past 'staring at each other for minutes at a time' stage?”

 

Kaoru slips his shoes on.

 

“Hey—that's a work in progress, okay? But I get it. If I'm a good boy, Anzu will be good to me.”

 

“Not exactly what I said, but I’m glad something’s gonna light a fire under your ass.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m off.” He’s at the door, not wanting to hear anymore, “you guys want anything?”

 

Chiaki perks up. “Ooh, can you check if they have any of those passion fruit-”

 

“Good. ‘Cause I’m not getting you anything.” Kaoru says with a bark of spite right before he’s out the door, he barely catches Chiaki’s whine as he heads down the stairs and onto the street.

 

It’s a bit irritating, getting something that likens a scolding from Kuro, it’s even more irritating to understand his point.

 

For the record, he _has_ been working harder recently, but not for his approval.

 

For once, he’s seriously kind of motivated—for a bit of a shallow reason, yes, but motivated, nonetheless.

 

And maybe it’s not actually for the personal phone number of his cute superior at work, but more so just to leave a nice impression for the cute customer he can guarantee will always stop by.

 

Because, he really likes when he stops by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally the kaorei interactions Begin
> 
> since im not sure if i'll ever mention it later chiaki works part-time at a game store--middle schoolers hate him bc he's very serious about those mature ratings


	4. I Stuff my Face With Super Greens to Keep Myself out of Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dead i would have posted these chapters earlier but i got sidetracked by this season of project runway btw ROBERI WAS ROBBED!!
> 
> nyways onto this v self-indulgent story

It’s hard to seem perfect and alluring behind a counter when all one has going for them are fruit puns, a provocative way of cutting bananas into a blender, and an extensive knowledge of vitamins, but he’s trying, he really is.

What he’d give to actually know what this guy is thinking; it’s gotten to the point where Kaoru can look forward to his visits, predict them to happen at least once a week. And even with that, the dancer still maintains this sensual elusiveness—which, how anyone can do such a thing when ordering cucumber-infused water is something beyond him—but Kaoru’s _so_ into it, he doesn't really care. 

And yes, he dances.

With the help his own critical thinking skills and wondrous context clues like— _the damn unitard,_ a tote bag, and the various tights worn each time he saw him, Kaoru is 100% certain he’s developed the hots for one of those fancy performance arts academy attendees. A possibly prissy, twinkle-toed, refined and proper danseur is totally into him, and that simple fact alone is enough to send Kaoru’s mind soaring.

Everyday prompts some short-lived reverie of receiving some declaration of a once secret, festering love through dance via flash mob, and he really, _really_ should get a hold of himself.

He doesn't even _like_ flash mobs.

There’s not much progression aside from that, and Kaoru’s weakening. He’s getting impatient. A move should be made by now, but from whom, he isn't sure, and doing so himself is like admitting some sort of defeat. This silent back-and-forth of flirty smiles and giggles has been going on long enough, but to be the one to put an end to it is the same as saying he can't take anymore.

He really can't, but the pretty boy here shouldn't know that.

It’s a waiting game, he feels, just some odd, mental battle of attrition that’ll either end up with a phone number in a tip jar, or a shameless confession written on the side of a smoothie cup.

He’s on autopilot; body moving, taking orders, and preparing drinks while his mind is completely elsewhere, only stopping for a moment to acknowledge how slow the day has been before it’s enveloped in yet another inane daydream.

“Kaoru.”

It isn't until a hand is waved in front of his face he’s pulled from his thoughts and looking at Kuro on the other side of the counter—out of uniform—putting on his jacket. 

“You’re closing tonight.”

He squints, moves to fetch some straws.

“That’s your job.”

“I’m leaving early; gotta pick my sister up from piano practice.”

“So why do I have to close?”

“Thought you were on the path to getting into Anzu’s good graces? This is me helping you out.”

Kaoru scoffs, stabs the seventh, small pineapple-spinach blend he’s made today and slides it off to the side before it’s picked up and replaced with its value in cash.

“No, this is you, using me, to lessen your workload,” he fills the register, “I’m not stupid, you’re not gonna get me to do both our jobs.”

“You know it’s not like that-”

“It is.”

“So you’re not going to do it?”

“Well, I don't really have much of a choice now.”

Kuro pats the counter, grins.

“Guess I owe you one, then.”

“Uh, yeah—that’s a given.”

“This is good for you, promise.”

“Shut up.”

Kaoru catches the beginning of some defeated laugh right when Kuro makes his leave, and swears he’ll dedicate the rest of his time here conjuring up some incredibly ridiculous favor the other won't be able to back out of.

It’s annoying, but a good contribution to the foundation of his new reputation, he can't deny that.

Another customer is in his place before he can call ‘next’, and it’s like a cue for him to zone out again until he can finally go home.

His sense of time is dwindling, and despite its assistance in helping him get through the day it’s because of that he barely catches Anzu waving him goodnight before she leaves. It’s done with a supportive smile, one that knows he’s been entrusted with this new task, and sweet enough for him to almost disregard the fact that Kuro definitely knew Kaoru wasn’t going to turn him down, and had given her the heads up before he even asked him.

Asshole.

The place is near-empty now; it’s that kind of hour where the few occupants still here are only loitering about for the free wifi, and Kaoru can pretty much get away with anything without so much as a curious glance from his co-workers, who wouldn't even bring themselves to care.

And that is exactly why the moment _he_ walks in, can only be described as perfect timing.

Incredibly perfect.

Kaoru wouldn't say he’s a total believer when it comes to things like fate, rather, he never really took the time to suggest a reason why certain things happen the way they do.

He’s fine with just accepting the now and dealing with it in his own way, but this—

It wouldn't be too far-fetched to assume, or even believe that some greater force or higher power is staring down at Kaoru right now, shining the light of opportunity right at the top of his head and urging him to take that step, and make happen what he’s been itching to happen for weeks now.

Destiny? Providence? God’s will? 

No—he won't go that far.

This isn’t something that’s meant to be, but should.

It’s more than a coincidence; like some sprinkle of good fortune coating a sudden, meager wind’s passing.

For the first time in a while, Kaoru feels like something is _rooting_ for him, and he likes that. And if this alone isn't the driving force he needs to woo the spandex off this guy, he doesn't know what will be.

“Here for the late night hidden dessert menu, huh?” He finally says aloud, just to call out to him. “Guilty pleasures are always fun—don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He jokes, and gets a smile that matches his. As soon as the other makes his way up to the counter, Kaoru leans over it.

“I didn't think I’d catch you this at this hour.”

“They just can’t seem to let me leave—were you hoping to see me?”

“Maybe.”

Excitement comes in a jolt he’s able to laugh off, and he can't even remember the last time he’s felt this eager. 

“What can I get you?”

“What’s appropriate at a time like this?”

He says that like he wants to lean in to match him. At least, that’s what it feels like. As if there’s this need to assert, to establish. To contain or stunt his presence for the sake of balance, equal-leveling. Kaoru doesn't even know why such a feeling is there, let alone care, but its existence is heavy enough to at least acknowledge.

Regardless, they’re still pretty close, and Kaoru can see more than usual. Pure elastane and some other building hints his scent, the hood of his sweater obscures most of his hair, but he still imagines it to be just as silky, and lazily tied back as it often is.

He spots a necklace. It’s accented with a thin, subtle, silver cross and Kaoru wants nothing more at the moment to wrap it around his finger just to catch it gleam.

“Can't say, you know? People have the strangest requests: peach and pumpkin seed, blueberry and thyme—personally, I’d go with a dinner and movie date with a hot blond. I heard they’re light, savory, and easy on the stomach.”

It gets him a laugh this time. Kaoru props his elbow up, and rests his chin in his palm.

“Is that right?”

“Definitely.”

“I might have an appetite for that.”

“You’re in luck, we have exactly one left in stock. He’s 5’9 and tasty as hell.”

The response this time is less composed, and he loves it. The other crosses his arms, and turns away for a moment to regain face until he can look back at him once more. It’s all a game, and he’s definitely playing along, but he’s slipped, revealed a near-flustered expression, and that alone has given Kaoru the upper hand in this.

Which means, it’s time to go in for the kill.

“So, what do you say?”

“I don’t know,” he reaches out to tap the name tag against the breast pocket of his shirt with a gentle finger, gathering back the playfulness Kaoru’s been practically feeding off of. “Hakaze. What should I say?”

Kaoru takes hold of it between his own finger and thumb, before he daringly entwines their hands in such a loose and offhanded manner it doesn't spark the mildly expected look of surprise.

“You should say: ‘wow, you’re so amazing, let me give you my number so you can call me later, you stud.’ and we can work something out from there, it’s no worries—call me Kaoru.”

“And if I don't have a phone, Kaoru?”

“Email address? P.O box? Carrier pigeon?” A thoughtful pause, “ancient handcrafted relics that allow mere mortals to communicate with the help of the moonlight?”

“You’re funny.”

“Bet I can do more than make you laugh.”

A scoff.

“Please.”

“What’s your name?”

“Rei.”

“I’m a flexible guy, Rei, just letting you know.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Kaoru says in an exhale, glances between their hands and him, “Look—I’ve been noticing you,” he starts, “a lot.”

Finally, their hands part, and the dancer crosses his arms again with some knowing smirk.

“And I’ve noticed that.”

“Right.” Kaoru straightens up his stance, “you’ve been noticing me, noticing you.” 

“Mmh.”

He eyes the necklace. “Don't you think we should get together sometime? Maybe do more than just notice each other.”

And it’s like he’s being studied, this quiet response. For a moment, Kaoru’s confidence wavers just enough to shift a little—until the stare breaks, and he’s left watching the other pull a phone out of his tote.

He snorts.

“So you _do_ have a phone.”

“It was a hypothetical question,” he slips it into his hand, “and besides, my handcrafted relic is out of service.”

Kaoru grins and taps his number in; it’s right then he remembers they aren't the only ones in the parlor. But the little indecency he feels right now can be ignored. He sends a message to himself before he hands it back, feels it vibrate in his back pocket.

“Now, how may I take your order?”

“I think I’ve already gotten what I wanted.”

_Oh._

“You sure? Drinks are always blended with care.”

He puts his phone away and places some money on the counter, gestures over to the bottled, ready-made juices cooling in a fridge residing in a corner before he moves to grab one himself.

Kaoru mocks a frowns at the small departure, “When can I expect a call?”

Rei only smiles, bottle in hand, doesn't say anything more as he leans against the door of the parlor, and slips on out.

For a second Kaoru truly wonders if he had been guiding this situation in any way, if this was less of the whim he took based on the energy he’d been getting for weeks, and more of something just intricately set up by the other from the start.

Whether there was an innocent act at play, or Kaoru was too distracted to see the signs he doesn’t know.

But he got what he wanted too, so he’ll take this as a victory—a small one.

There’s still plenty more to score.


	5. You Allergic to Peanuts? Milk? Honey? Soy? Don't Worry, I've got You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rated M
> 
>  
> 
> for Major fucken nerd fight

 

“ _Good_ evening passengers, this is your captain Morisawa speaking, and we welcome you on board flight _Living room Couch_  with service of four-time award-winning intergalactic sci-fi movie series _Meteor Rangers—uncut,_ parts one through seven. We are now in line for take-off and our expected end time will be approximately 6AM. We ask you that you please secure all snacks and drinks as well as keep all electronic devices  _off._ Talking is prohibited for the duration of that one epic fight scene near the end of part three because it’s my favorite, you guys, I’m serious—anyways, sit back, relax, and let’s get started.”

“I’m telling you, there’s a difference. A big one.”

“Kaoru, I literally do not care.”

“Look— _look._ ”

Kuro sighs.

“Alright. How should I sweep my bangs?” Kaoru swings his head to one side, “left?” Then to the other, “or right?”

Kuro crosses his arms, leans in to study his face before he shakes his head and pulls away.

“I don’t know. I see no change.”

“Really? Okay, again,” he repeats the action, “left. Or right?”

“Hey, guys-”

“You look exactly the same!”

“ _J_ _ust pick one._ ”

“Guys-”

“Fine. Left.”

A look of revulsion makes up his face quickly, and he turns away from him.

“The right side’s better, though.”

Kuro can only look lost. “Then why did you even bother asking?”

“Because if I were to die tomorrow and you provide the newspaper with a picture that depicts me as anything less than the ten that I am, you’re getting haunted.”

“You’re so stupid-”

“Do you even think about these things? We’re friends, we look out for each other. Even in death. I’ve got you and Chiaki covered, but what about me?”

Kuro watches him for a moment with this vaguely incredulous expression before he breaks his stare to pull out his phone. He holds it up in front of Kaoru’s confused face for several seconds until a _click_  is heard. He waves the device about then sticks it back in his pocket.

“I’ve got you, now.”

Kaoru sputters. “What? No—that’s—let me see that.”

“Get off me-”

“Give me your phone!”

“ _Guys!_ ” Chiaki stomps his foot; arms full of dvds, his pointed frown gets them to cease just enough so Kuro can shove a distracted Kaoru off his side.

“Our movie marathon? Tonight? Did you forget?”

Kaoru scratches the top of his head as he sits back up on the couch, “That was planned for tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight!” Chiaki sits himself on the floor of the living room. “No backing out, we agreed last month.”

Kuro joins him, helps sort out the movie order. “It’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kaoru scoffs, “I’m expecting a very important phone call.”

“No phone call lasts several hours, aside from that, your schedule is clear.”

“Yeah, that’s my fault for befriending literal hermits.”

“Go make us some popcorn.”

He huffs, but does as he’s told.

“An important call, huh? Kaoru,” Chiaki calls out to him as he turns on his console, “who from?”

“A friend.”

“...Oh.”

“That was fast.”

Kaoru sticks his head out from the kitchen.

“What do you mean, ‘fast’?”

“I mean, you’re seeing someone already?”

Chiaki hums, “is this why he got self conscious about his bangs?”

“I’m not self conscious—and why do you assume this is a dating thing? Can't a phone call from a friend be a phone call from a friend?”

“Yeah, but is this a ‘friend’ friend, or a _friend_  friend?” He even stops what he’s doing to ask, leaving Kuro to set up the television.

Kaoru only scowls, moves to open the microwave.

“Mind your business.”

“See?”

“Whatever, I’ll watch your movies. But as soon as I get that buzz, I’m locking myself in my room.”

“Fair enough—drinks!”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That ‘buzz’ however, seemed a few days overdue.

It’s not like Kaoru had expected a response in the same night, he knows there are time frames for these sorts of things.

Though, he can't help but feel a little neglected, maybe even ignored.

He’s not going to initiate anything this time. This is a dance for two people and Kaoru has done his part. He can most definitely hold out on shooting a simple text.

He totally can.

“Seven whole movies…” Kuro mumbles as he lays onto his side.

“Bet money you’ll knock out before we finish.”

“Can you blame me? It only starts getting good during part four, then falls flat after that.”

Chiaki gasps, and Kuro sits up to look quizzically at the dumbfounded face he receives.

“What?”

“Kuro… you don't mean that, do you?”

“Meteor Rangers part four was the superior movie out of the entire series.”

“On what fucking planet?” Kaoru shouts from the fridge.

“All of them?” He shouts back, still confused.

Kaoru steps out of the kitchen, cans of soda in his arms.

“Stop lying.”

“I’m serious.”

“Stop.”

“You know what the problem is?” Kuro starts, “you guys are so fixated on fancy cinematics you fail to notice the actual story. You’ll take 3D graphics and lasers, while ignoring the need for proper continuity and fluidity of plot. Part four was the most concise, and even tied up the loose ends left in parts two and three-”

“Quick question, Kuro: what’s it like to have trash opinions? I mean, I wouldn’t know, because I actually have good taste-”

“Really?”

“This must be so hard for you. I hope there’s a support group, or an outreach program that can help you deal with this.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I don’t, actually.”

Chiaki coughs. “Popcorn’s ready-”

“Part four was the saving grace of this franchise.” Kuro states with arms crossed.

“No it wasn't—so you’re just going to ignore parts three, five and seven?”

“Should I just get it myself…?”

“I’m not ignoring them, but they didn't have as much as an impact.”

“Part four flopped, Kuro! It got the worst rating out of all seven movies, it was _boring_ , and completely overrated at best. That’s fact.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna—I’ll get it myself.”

“Overrated?” Kuro echoes.

“Yeah, I said it.”

“If anything was overrated, it was the cheap cliffhanger in part five.”

“Part five was literally the series’ turning point-”

“It was filled with cliché and overused tropes.” Kuro spits, “no originality, at all.”

Kaoru opens his mouth in reply, then closes it with a scowl.

“You know what? We’re done here.” He says in a dismissive tone, clearly annoyed but not enough to entertain the argument any further.

“Are you mad, now?”

“I’m not having this conversation any more.”

“You’re mad.”

Kaoru doesn't say anything else only tosses him his soda knowing fully well he won't be able to open it now. Kuro scoffs at the spiteful gesture. Kaoru sets the other two drinks down and moves to take up a seat on the couch.

While he watches Kuro access the movie menu to start the film, Kaoru sets his phone on vibrate, already fending off any urge to sift through his contacts and start up some draft of a potential conversation.

All he has to do is wait, exert nothing but patience, and the idea of such a collected demeanor faltering a little, similar to the slip up he’d seen before, is enough motivation to do so.

It’s a ridiculously conceited thought, but Kaoru wonders if he’s ever driven someone to the point of desperation.

That’s not to say he’s feeling such a thing right now.

Chiaki shuffles back into the living room with the popcorn in a large bowl.

“You guys are both super wrong, by the way. _All_  movies were good.” He says, then seats himself back on the floor.

And because it’s a comment he’d more or less expect from, him Kaoru can't find it in him to refute. In fact, he laughs at it.

Kuro most likely thinks the same, it’s why he snorts, and wordlessly helps himself to the popcorn with a shake of his head.

.

  
.

  
.

  
.

They’re about three movies in when Kaoru’s phone gets an alert.

 

It’s a lot earlier than he expected, but later than he’d like. Regardless, he can't pay any more attention the movie.

 

He can't do anything but stare at it, as if the message’s authenticity will reveal itself within time. It’s there though, it’s there and real and Kaoru has to shake away any signs of sleep to handle this properly, before he misses an opportunity here.

 

Kuro’s dozing off and Chiaki is so absorbed with the film—eyes glued to the screen while he murmurs every bit of dialogue to himself—Kaoru is certain the light of his phone screen beaming in the dark will go unnoticed for a while.

 

He finally opens the message, unsure if he’s anxious or just really excited.

  


Hi

11:43PM

  


And it’s kind of laughable, because it’s not the call that he wanted, but he’s happy with it all the same. It’s a sign of interest—a very mundane one, but one good enough to keep any doubt away.

  


hey? what's up?

11:43PM

  


Oh.

11:44PM

 

You’re still awake :)

11:44PM

  
  


yeah im in the middle of a bad decision lol

11:44PM

 

whyre u up?

11:45PM

  


Maybe for the same reasons.

11:45PM

  


mm i don’t believe that

11:46PM

 

Ur def somebody with a tight schedule

11:46PM

  


You think so?

11:46PM

  


Yea

11:47PM

 

are u trying to say ur not a busy person?

11:47PM

  


No, you’re right.

11:47PM

  


see i thought so

11:48PM

 

also considering i haven't seen or heard anything from u for like

11:48PM

 

3 days

11:48PM

 

that was the best conclusion i could draw lol

11:49PM

  
  


I’m sorry about that :(

11:50PM

 

You know, I had cut in so much time just to see you everyday

11:50PM

 

That when we finally exchanged numbers, I doubled down on all the work I had been setting aside.

11:51PM

 

I think…

11:51PM

 

I got so excited, and set on catching up, it slipped my mind to actually message you.

11:52PM

  


woooooooooooow

11:52PM

  
  


Lol.

11:52PM

  


excited huh

11:53PM

 

:^)

11:53PM

  
  


Well, there isn't any point in trying to save face,

11:53PM

 

After an airheaded mistake like that, it’s best to be honest.

11:54PM

  


I appreciate ur honesty

11:54PM

 

I feel kinda bad tho

11:54PM

 

like you went thru all that trouble for lil ol me

11:55PM

 

:’)

11:55PM

  
  


It was no trouble at all.

11:55PM

 

You are cute. I took interest. And now, we’re talking.

11:56PM

 

Worth the effort so far :)

11:56PM

  
  
  


“cute”

11:57PM

 

lol I never get called that...

11:57PM

  


Why not? It’s true.

11:57PM

 

You are a cute person.

11:58PM

 

With cute ears.

11:58PM

 

And a cute nose. :)

11:58PM

 

Correction: :^)

11:58PM

 

Kaoru flushes, stupidly. He’d scold himself for being this easily flattered but he’s too preoccupied with the sudden warmth at the back of his neck, and the urge to inspect his own face because really, his nose?

 

Suddenly too shy to be seen by his roommates, Kaoru gathers himself and quietly shuffles into his room. His lack of presence unnoticed.

 

ummmmmmmmmmmm ok lol

12:00AM

  
  


What do you normally get called instead?

12:00AM

  
  


handsome, dreamboat, the ideal, sex god, literal perfection

12:01AM

 

stuff like that u kno. the usual

12:01AM

  
  


Cute.

12:01AM

  
  


:/

12:02AM

  
  


Lol.

12:02AM

  
  


wyd right now?

12:02AM

  
  


Being naughty.

12:03AM

  
  


oho

12:03AM

 

how so?

12:03AM

  
  


I’m having a mock cobb salad.

12:04AM

 

With lots of bacon bits.

12:04AM

 

And blue cheese dressing.

12:04AM

 

At midnight… This is so bad… Lol..

12:05AM

  
  


Ur skin

12:05AM

 

is gonna

12:05AM

 

hate u lmao

12:05AM

  
  


Perhaps, but blue cheese.

12:06AM

  
  
  


Is it worth it tho?

12:06AM

  
  


There’s no immediate response, and for a second Kaoru is convinced he’s offended, until his phone alerts two minutes later.

 

>> [See Attachment]

12:08AM

 

Out of all the pictures he’s used to receiving after dark, a nicely filtered, well-angled image of a salad is certainly a first. He wraps himself up in the blankets of his bed, and laughs, wonders how tired he must really be to find this as funny as he does.

 

damn

12:13AM

  
  


See?

12:14AM

  
  


that is one

12:14AM

 

sexy salad

12:14AM

  
  


:)

12:14AM

 

What are you doing right now?

12:14AM

  
  


i was watching movies with some friends

12:15AM

 

the idea was to watch them until sunrise but

12:15AM

 

i'm in bed right now just in case i pass out

12:15AM

  
  


If you're feeling tired, you should sleep.

12:16AM

  


but i wanna keep talking to u

12:16AM

 

I just remembered

12:16AM

 

werent we supposed to have a dinner/movie date like

12:16AM

 

soon?

12:16AM

  
  


Oh, that’s right.

12:17AM

  


doesn't even have to be a movie we could just

12:17AM

 

hang out at a cafe or somethin

12:17AM

 

U like yogurt?

12:17AM

 

To be frank, I don’t think I can make time for that at the moment.

12:18AM

 

Between classes and practice.

12:18AM

 

I need to be spending it wisely, I'm sorry.

12:18AM

 

I’d like something like that though, really.

12:19AM

 

It’s just…

12:19AM

  


bad timing, bad timing

12:19AM

 

I get it

12:19AM

  


Hmm.

12:20AM

  
  


hmm what?

12:20AM

  


I was thinking…

12:20AM

 

In the same manner I came to see you at work,

12:21AM

 

Maybe you can see me.

12:21AM

 

After studies, that is.

12:21AM

  


lmao like….come and watch ur dance practice??

12:22AM

  


If possible, yes.

12:23AM

  
  


oh shit

12:23AM

 

yea that’d be so cool

12:24AM

  


:)

12:24AM

 

I will message you the address later.

12:24AM

 

For now, I am going to brush my teeth and head to bed.

12:25AM

 

I can trust you’ll follow suit?

12:25AM

  


fine fine right behind u haha

12:26AM

 

Need my beauty rest anyways

12:26AM

  


I’m glad :)

12:26AM

 

Sweet dreams, Kaoru.

12:27AM

 

♥

12:27AM

  


It isn't long until Kaoru’s red in the face, and tossing his phone to the side.

 


	6. I Keep Oranges in my Pockets for On-the-go Revitalization

It’s actually pretty intimidating, being on a large campus like this. Even more so when he’s on it after hours, with the clear knowledge that he shouldn't be. 

He had expectations of this place giving off an air of prestige, and it does, but whether or not it really is extremely well-known is something he can't tell right now.

Kaoru sits on the floor in some corner of an empty dance room while Rei stretches from the other side. Watching him has him feel less nervous, and think maybe he’s being too self conscious about being here.

“Something on your mind?”

“Hmh? Ah—no, I just… didn't think we’d be here this late.”

“Security tends to be lazy at this hour, and we’ll have a bit of time before the night crowd starts rolling in.” He touches his toes, “even then, I’m sure this room will be left alone. It’s not as up-to-date as the others.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of the rooms here went through a bit of a renovation, but this one never got one. Since it’s a lot smaller, the school didn't bother.”

Kaoru takes a moment to look around, as if to imagine the comparison. 

Rei gets to his feet and continues, gestures to the cluttered tools and empty canvases in the other corners of the room. “It’s become a supply closet for artists, and a last minute practice room for dancers. Not many students know about it though—perks of seniority.” 

“Wait—not everyone here dances?”

“We have dancers, actors, painters, sculptors, authors, photographers, and the like.” He crosses his arms with a smirk, “this school encompasses art of all forms.”

Kaoru leans back, impressed.

“Nice.”

“It is. And since this place is generally under the radar, we’ll be to ourselves for a while.”

And with the look he gives him, Kaoru doesn't question why his heart just throbbed the way it did. It’s now he realizes how quiet it is and how alone they are, despite still seeing a few students lingering in the hallway from the window, Kaoru feels like he’s stepped up in levels of intimacy, and has to contain any wild thought from going farther than it should.

Rei turns on the music player in his phone and hooks it up to a stereo. Music fills the air as he moves to a barre against the wall, and does more stretches. Unitard snug on his build, Kaoru can spot to flex of prominent muscles in his legs with each slow bend downward, then upwards, then down again.

“This won't be intruding on any night plans, will it?” He says after a few moments.

It breaks his stare, and the pause makes Kaoru sheepish.

“No way,” he finally answers with a wave of his hand, “my shift is covered, I’m totally free—all yours. Besides, I like watching you, uh, squat.”

As if the words were some sort of cue, Rei dips again—significantly lower this time. Kaoru’s eyes follow the action like bait until he rises again, and stands.

“It’s fun stuff.” He murmurs, then sits up and crosses his legs.

“So do you have a specialty when it comes to dance, or are you just some all-rounder?”

“I’m versatile, but I do specialize in one thing.” Rei puts a hand on his hip.

“Can you guess it?”

“I’m somewhere between b-boy breakdancing, and international folk.”

“Ooh, so close.” He humors him.

Kaoru grins. “What is it?”

Rei steps away from the barre to do an inward turn, right foot quickly touching the side of his left knee with its toe, until it falls back down to complete his new stance. Rei pops his right hip now, keeps his left leg bent and the tip of his toe touching the floor as he holds his hands out, shakes them about with splayed fingers.

“Modern Jazz.”

Kaoru loses it.

His laugh enough to rival the music still playing from the stereo which—now that he's thinking about it—is definitely fitting, he falls to his side in a lazy, yet fluid motion, still struck with a fit of giggles that don't sound like they'll be leaving anytime soon.

Rei walks over to nudge him with his foot.

“That’s quite rude, Kaoru.”

He rolls onto his back, and as soon as he’s flat Rei moves to rest his foot on his chest.

Kaoru only feels the weight of it; the soles of his shoes are rubber.

They're a simple black color, leather-bound, and cut right below the ankle. Kaoru eyes the neatly tied laces for a second before he takes hold of his foot, grasps it, and looks up at him.

“I don't take you for a jazzy person,” he admits, grinning, “you have a sort of… fanciness about you.”

“‘Fanciness’.” Rei echoes.

“Yeah, fanciness. Like, the whole swan lake, sugar plum fairy, grace-and-elegance vibe?”

“You have a very peculiar description of classical ballet.”

“Is that not your thing?”

“I’ve been doing it since I was little, just not as partial to it.” He moves his foot to allow Kaoru to sit up—stand.

“I find jazz easier, there’s more freedom for expression and improvisation.”

“That’s fair.” Kaoru pats away the dust from his pants, “Hey, do that—can you do that thing with your fingers again?”

Rei assumes the same pose, and does as he’s asked. The sight makes Kaoru lose composure once more, and snicker into his palm.

“Is this a real thing?”

“You’re too easily amused...”

“Sorry, sorry-”

Rei closes the space between them in a small shuffle forward, and grips the sides of Kaoru’s jacket with thumbs that run along the teeth of its zipper. 

“What’s your specially?”

“I don’t dance-”

“In general.”

“I thought I was here to watch you practice?”

“I want small talk.”

There’s this mild ease about him and the way he moves, so nonchalant, Kaoru keeps feeling his touches and glances with delay, reads them moments after they land.

He gets so close and so comfortable, it makes him both anxious and thrilled and determined to match this attitude with some overly-friendly touch of his own.

Kaoru takes both of his hands and slips them away from his jacket, just to hold them in a light-hearted, and gentle swing.

“I’m just a simple juice boy,” he says, wonders if Rei appreciates the warmth in his hands that contrasts the cool in his, “with more knowledge on fiber than any person should ever really have.”

“Are you being secretive?”

“Well, having a mystery is the only hot thing I’ve got going for me at this point.” 

Rei takes his hand from Kaoru’s hold to poke at his side.

“Tell me your secret talent, and I’ll confess a secret of my own.”

“You don't even know if I have a talent.”

“Then, a secret for secret.”

“Fine.”

“Make it embarrassing.”

“...”

Rei gives him an expectant look.

“Alright,” he complies, ready to lose face, “okay, uh,” Kaoru looks around, waits for something to hit him.

“My first girlfriend was an inanimate object.”

Of course Kaoru watches his face, for a total of three blinks in fact.

“Surfboard.” He finally clarifies, “She was a gift from my older brother when I was fourteen. Took her to the beach once, and we’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s rather sweet—so you _do_ have a secret talent, then? Surfing?”

“I wouldn't call it a talent, it’s more of a hobby—and besides, I haven't actually been to the beach in so long, it’s not really-”

“But if it’s something you’ve been doing for years, you must be good at it, no?”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Kaoru scratches the top of his head, fights back a bashful expression. “I mean—it’s whatever, yeah, maybe…”

“Being humble doesn’t suit you, you know.”

“S’not like I can help it.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Hmh?”

“Your board,” he pats his chest, then moves away to tend to the music player, “you miss her, right?”

Kaoru scoffs, “like I said, it’s been a while.”

“Is there a particular reason why you stopped surfing?”

He shrugs. “Just trying to shift focus.”

“To…?”

He shrugs again, and Rei isn't satisfied with the response, but he doesn't push it.

“Right.”

“Your turn.” Kaoru says quickly, “What’s your secret?”

Rei stops fussing with the stereo to look at Kaoru over his shoulder.

There’s a long pause before he speaks, as if he’s trying to gather the words, and that makes Kaoru a little hesitant himself. It’s when he outs with it, Kaoru feels his jaw drop.

“I never actually drank all of the juices you’ve blended for me.”

Kaoru places both hands atop his head as he takes this in, has them fall at his sides as an incredulous expression douses his features.

“Okay… This is a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So every one of them, you just-”

“Of course, I’ve had some of them, but it’d be impossible to drink each one with a diet like mine. You understand, right?”

“I don't mean to be combative, but is this really coming from someone who drank an excessive amount of blue cheese dressing a few days ago?”

“Please don’t exaggerate—we all have our moments of weakness, Kaoru.”

“Then, what did you do with the rest?”

“I gave them away.”

“ _Wow._ ”

“Kaoru-”

“I could cry.” He says, shakes his head at him, “I mean, I’m not going to, because the lighting here is fluorescent and I wouldn't do that to myself, but just know that’s how deeply this is hitting me.”

“You’re not really upset.” Rei calls his bluff; Kaoru drops the act.

“You just admitted you only bought juice everyday as a reason to talk to me during our six-minute transaction—I’m everything _but_ upset right now.”

Rei’s huff only comes before Kaoru’s burst of laughter, and he turns up the stereo to drown that out.

Kaoru comes over to him this time, nudges his arm until it’s shrugged off, and he finds Rei laughing himself.

“That was not a proper game plan, I will admit.”

“As if you still weren't trying to play hard-to-get.”

Rei smirks at him.

“It’s best I get to the actual practicing now, isn’t it?”

And he just takes that as confirmation, proof that he still might be. Not that it matters much at this point, a chase is fun when it’s going somewhere. Kaoru gives him a smirk of his own and nods, finds a seat in a corner and gets comfortable.

With an outstretched arm, Kaoru gestures to the center of the floor.

“S’all yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> project runway junior just started airing yall idk when imma get back to this


End file.
